


Like the Dawn

by bartycrouchjrs



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Ending, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 15:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bartycrouchjrs/pseuds/bartycrouchjrs
Summary: Ash comes down from the mountain and learns to love himself.





	Like the Dawn

“My letter,” Ash gasps. He feels the IVs prick his skin as he crashes to the floor, searching on hands and knees. He feels desperate, ravenous. “My letter— where is it—”

————

Ash wakes once again to the ominous trill of a heart monitor. His limbs feel heavy; his head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton balls.

“You’re up,” Max says, leaning forward in the chair he’s sat in at his bedside to place something in his lap. “Before you ask—here. The nurse said you were tripping and falling over yourself to get to it.”

Realization dawns as Ash blinks down at the heap of paper. His fingers glide reverently over the crumpled pages, now bloodied and tear-marred. _My soul is always with you_ , he reads, over and over.

“Eiji wrote it for me,” he says in awe. He can still hardly believe it.

Max smiles. “You probably already have it memorized.”

Ash whips his head around to glare at him. “Shut up,” he barks.

Max rolls his eyes. “And he gave you a ticket.”

Ash’s expression goes soft around the edges, shoulders hunching in. He feels the fight drain from him all at once.

“For a moment, I… I really thought I’d go,” Ash says, head bowed over in shame.

Max frowns at him. “You say that like it’s some great moment of weakness.” Ash tucks the letter under his chin, like a child with a blanket. “I _still_  think you should go. After you rest up, that is.”

Ash’s hands swipe angrily at his damp cheeks. “That’s out of the question,” he snarls.

Max brings a hand to rest on his forehead, long-suffering. “You’re so goddamn stubborn! Why are you torturing yourself? You already _won_ , Ash. Let yourself live a little. You’re young and in love—”

“If I let myself live, he’ll die,” Ash forces out, the venom in his voice lost to cracked syllables.

“Bullshit,” Max says, unyielding. “No one is going to follow you to Japan. There’s no one _left_  to follow you.”

“You don’t know that,” Ash murmurs, a haunted look coming over his face. A million different things could follow him there; Max doesn’t know what he’s saying. Ash won’t be a burden to Eiji any longer. He refuses.

“For God’s sake, Ash,” Max says wetly, “why did you go to the library? Why didn’t you call for help?”

Guilt kicks at Ash’s ribs, swift and nauseating, at the devastated expression on Max’s face. Ash turns to face the window and pulls the bedsheets over his face, taking Eiji’s letter with him.

“Wasn’t worth the trouble.”

————

It’s the returning home that does it. He feels Eiji’s loss like a tangible thing, like a cookie-cutter hole in his heart. His bed is unmade. His hair is on Ash’s brush. His weird Japanese snacks are on the shelves.

 _Is it wrong that I feel for him?_  he had asked Blanca, that day. He’d thought that just having something of Eiji’s would be enough—the letter, the memories. Told himself that it had to be. But is it really so wrong to want more?

It had seemed befitting, that he wouldn’t know how to exist in this newfound freedom of his. Free from his abusers at long last; free to make a life for himself. But what is there to live for, if not to seek revenge? Ash doesn’t know. Maybe that’s why he’d staggered to the library that day, intent on bleeding out.

Everyone had always said that he was untamable—a wild thing, too feral to be contained. But, oh, how he’d wished to be tamed—to exist within the cage of Eiji’s arms.

 _Is it so wrong to ask for forever?_  People did it all the time. Fell in love, got married—promised things like _‘til death do us part_. It’s difficult to believe that so many people could feel the same way for each other as he does for Eiji. What Ash feels is too large and overwhelming to possibly be so universal, so commonplace.

Ash stares out his window at the cityscape. _Maybe it’s okay to be selfish sometimes._ Hasn’t he suffered enough? All of the monsters Ash has sent to their graves—they would want him to grieve, to hate himself, to stew in his isolation.

And wouldn’t the greatest revenge of all be—to be happy?

————

“He never got the memo about the dual being called off,” Sing says in a rush. “I’m so sorry, Ash. I had no idea he would do something like this.”

“It’s alright,” Ash says, heart aching for him. “I’m sorry, too. You lost your only brother.”

Sing’s chin hits his chest like a leaden weight—like he’s only now truly felt the gravity of his loss. “Yeah,” Sing croaks.

Ash grips his shoulder tight. “And I’m especially sorry, because… I have one last favor to ask you.”

————

 _Is this freedom?_  Ash wonders, huddled in the middle seat on the plane, knees knocking against the tray table. But he’s never felt so content to be caged in as he is right now.

Then, later: _Holy_ _fuck._  Gripping tight around Eiji’s middle, feeling the long, warm kiss pressed to his throat. _Is this what it feels like? When two people love each other?_

————

When Ash meets Eiji’s family, he’s thoroughly red-eyed from the lack of sleep, the recycled plane air, and the crying. It’s a little unbelievable that they’re still fawning over him.

“So handsome!” cries Eiji’s mother, hands clasped together in delight.

Eiji rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Okaa-san, Ash is really tired…”

“Is your friend hungry?” his mother barrels on.

Eiji sighs, but it’s so obviously full of affection. When he glances up and aims that same expression at Ash, Ash is certain he could melt from the warmth of it.

“See, Onii-chan?” A child of about ten barrels into Eiji’s legs. “I told you my _omamori_  would work.”

Eiji’s face catches fire. “You airhead!” He ruffles her hair. “I can’t believe I actually missed you in America.”

Eiji’s sister offers a gap-toothed grin in return.

“Ash, this is my sister,” Eiji says, somewhat superfluously.

Ash slants her a practiced smile. “Hello.”

Eiji’s sister stares up at him for a long, unsettling moment before shuffling forward and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Ashu-nii-chan,” she says firmly.

————

“I’m so happy you’re here. I don’t even know what to say,” Eiji tells him, pleased and glowy, for the umpteenth time that night. It’s doing wonders for Ash’s self-esteem, really. Now that he’s in Japan, it’s so obvious that he made the right decision, coming here. He should really give his old man a call.

“Me, too,” Ash says earnestly. He shivers as Eiji runs his finger along the scar just to the right of his bellybutton.

“Ibe-san heard from Max that… things were almost really bad,” Eiji whispers.

Ash knew he’d have to have this conversation eventually, but he’s no better prepared for it. “He’s, um, not wrong,” he begins reluctantly. “Lao… still had some hard feelings. He attacked me on the street. And I was, um, in a hurry. I’d let my guard down.” _I was going to chase you_ , he doesn’t say.

Eiji goes utterly still. “S-Sing found you. After,” he prods.

Ash swallows hard. “Yes.”

“You told me you weren’t afraid of death, but you’d never wished for it, either,” Eiji says. Ash hears the accusation loud and clear. “So, why all the sudden, Ash? Why did you just… give up?”

Ash’s heart starts to beat at a frantic pace, like he’s being confronted with a gun instead of a question. Shame pools around his ankles, thick as blood. “I didn’t think I had a reason to live anymore,” he answers honestly.

Eiji’s lip wobbles. Tears slide and gather at the point of his chin. “ _Ash_.”

“I’m sorry,” Ash says, or splutters, rather. He doesn’t know what else to do, to say, to make it better.

“If you _ever_  feel like that again,” Eiji says severely, “you come and tell me. I’ll give you a list of a million reasons you have to live.” He jabs Ash square in the chest, all false bravado. “Got it?”

“Got it,” Ash says thickly. He lets out a huge breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Eiji snuggles into his side to resume his stroking of Ash’s scar.

“Sing and Cain are running the show now,” Ash says suddenly, feeling that he at least owes Eiji this. “And Sing seems to think that Yut-Lung will be… agreeable.”

Eiji’s face settles into something like contentment. “They’ll make it work. I have faith in them.”

Ash smiles. _Always the optimist._

————

Later, when they’ve exhausted themselves from talking, Eiji thrusts a pair of pajamasinto Ash's arms and tells him that he can sleep in his room.

“Your parents don’t mind?” Ash asks hesitantly.

Eiji shakes his head. “They don’t.”

With the room finally dark, Eiji situates one of Ash’s arms across his stomach and settles in close.

“So clingy, Eiji,” Ash coos, even as he jams the cold tip of his nose under Eiji’s jaw.

Eiji flicks his eyes skyward, fondly exasperated. _Whatever helps you sleep at night._

He wakes up with drool on his collarbone.

————

They buy an apartment with the money that Ash has left over from GOOSE.

Freedom looks good on Ash. Eiji knows that recovery isn’t linear—that there will still be bad days and even worse nights—but still, it’s like witnessing a rebirth. Ash leans on him. Allows himself to be held. Blows raspberries in Eiji’s ear like an obnoxious kid. He reads; he cooks. He writes articles for Max, sometimes. Studies Japanese in those ridiculous glasses of his, a furrow permanently etched into his brow.

Ash is the leopard that came down from the mountain. Drained by his ambition and bored of solitude. Or perhaps a man on a pedestal, come back to earth. No loose ends to send him fleeing back to New York; Ash double- and triple-knotted those threads a long time ago.

It’s one thing to come back to earth; it’s another to love yourself.

When Eiji tells Ash that he wants to return to school, Ash throws his support behind him like groundswell. Eiji had been halfway through his photography degree when he came to America, and while it would be nice to return to his studies, it would be even better if Ash came with him.

“I know you’re already a big-shot genius, but you love learning,” Eiji tries to reason with him, when Ash merely frowns at the suggestion.

“Eiji,” Ash says slowly, ignoring the jab, “I didn’t even finish high school.”

“They have programs for that, too,” Eiji tells him, aware that he’s pressing a bit.

Ash taps a pen against his nose, pensive. It’s open, and the green ink has smeared onto it a little. “What would I even study in college?”

“I don’t know,” Eiji says honestly. “You’re a huge nerd, so you’d probably be good at everything.”

“Hey!” Ash scowls at him, but it’s halfhearted at best. “That’s, like, bullying.”

Eiji leans in close and swipes at the bubble of his nose with his thumb. He smirks at the way Ash goes cross-eyed to follow the movement. “You’re a nerd _and_  a punk. And you gotta cute nose.”

“Harassment,” Ash declares.

All this banter, all this affection—Eiji feels like he’s brimming with it, like it’s just sloshing around behind his ribcage. He cups Ash by the jaw and for a short time just holds him still. Ash’s expression flits between surprise and confusion for several moments before settling into something tender.

“I love you, Ash,” Eiji says plainly. “I think you’d be good at anything you wanted to do. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

Ash’s eyebrows lift, and this is the part that Eiji hates—the suspended moment of disbelief that Ash must wade through whenever he speaks the sentiment aloud. A microsecond of conflict behind his eyes wherein Eiji’s words dual with Ash’s self-hatred. Eiji likes to imagine that he can weaponize his love for Ash—can beat down Ash’s self-loathing with the force of it, make it grow teeth and claws. It’s a battle Eiji would gladly fight for him, if he could.

But Ash always comes around—brilliant and inevitable, like the dawn. “Th-thank you, Eiji,” he whispers.

————

“Ash?”

Ash glances up from his dinner, chopsticks held loosely in one hand. He’s wearing a baggy sweater with too-long sleeves, and his hair has fallen into his face a little. He looks so soft, Eiji thinks.

“Have you ever thought about… getting married?”

“Oh,” Ash says, visibly thrown by the question. His lips purse in concentration, like he’s trying to remember something from a very long time ago. “Mm… not really. I guess, maybe when I was a little kid? Like, really little. When I’d watch Disney movies and stuff, it seemed like everybody must get married. You know how they are.”

Eiji doesn’t know, but he nods along anyway. “But what about now?”

“Now?” Ash asks, looking as startled as he had at the original question. “Um, I guess it never really seemed like it was in the cards for me.” His eyes track up and down Eiji’s face, like he’s trying to decipher something. “It would’ve been too dangerous in New York. And it’s not exactly easy to meet people with… shared life experience.”

Eiji isn’t sure if he means the gangs, or the rape, or something else entirely. But still, he nods.

Ash seems to sense that Eiji is still waiting, so he keeps on going, almost babbling. “But I’m sure _you’ve_  probably thought about it, right? You _deserve_  to get married. You’re patient, and kind, and loyal—” Ash gestures with his chopsticks theatrically. “— _and_  you know how to cook! I told you you’d make a good wife someday, remember? You would make some person really happy.”

Eiji reaches across the table to take his other hand, uncurling the fingers he has tucked into his palm. “Marriage isn’t about ‘deserving,’ Ash,” Eiji says gently. “You don’t have to love yourself for someone else to love you. That’s just… bullshit.”

Ash looks like he’s just been slapped across the face. “I— I know that!” he exclaims, suddenly and inexplicably on the defensive. “I just meant that you’re a good person. You’d make a good partner. It’s easy to picture someone like you being married.” His hands tremble ever-so-slightly. “Not like me. That’s all I meant.”

“Why not you?” Eiji asks. “Why not us?” Eiji maneuvers Ash’s hand between both of his. “Ash, you must’ve known I was talking about us.”

“Us?” Ash squeaks. The chopsticks clatter unceremoniously to the table.

Eiji feels his own face warming despite his best efforts, but he’s determined to have this conversation. “Sure. I mean, I know it probably wouldn’t change that much. Our daily lives would stay the same. But it’d be nice to make it official, wouldn’t it? To say vows, and wear rings?”

Ash’s eyes go all round and shiny. Boyish. “You want to get married?”

“Well, yes,” Eiji laughs. “I thought that was obvious by now.”

“And you want to marry me?” His voice is several octaves higher than Eiji has ever heard it.

“Yes, dummy,” Eiji says, to which Ash promptly bursts into tears.

“Oh, God,” he blubbers, as Eiji rushes around the table to rein him in, pulling his face into his chest, “I thought you wanted to see other people.”

Eiji goes completely stiff. “You thought _what_?!”

“I thought you wanted to be with someone else so you could get married.”

“I said, ‘Ash, let’s talk about marriage,’ and you thought, ‘oh no, he’s breaking up with me’?”

“Sh—shut up!”

“You are impossible.” Ash deflates as Eiji wraps his arms around him. “Is it really so hard to believe that I’d want to marry you?”

“It is to me.”

The moment distills itself to a warm embrace and a quiet room.

“So, um… what do we do now?” Ash mumbles against his shirt, sounding none of his nineteen and a half years.

Eiji kisses his forehead. “What do you mean?”

Ash squirms a little. “Do we, like… pick a date?”

“Oh, Ash,” Eiji breathes out, and dissolves into a fit of giggles. Ash pouts and glares down at his feet, going red to the tips of his ears.

When he finally catches his breath, he says, “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that—I still have to propose to you.”

Ash lifts his head, eyes going wide. “Propose?”

Eiji smiles. “Yeah. You know, that thing where I get down on one knee?”

In a split second, Ash’s eyes fill with fresh tears. He turns away and juts his chin, his face an almost comical concoction of frustration and delight. “I’ll just cry again,” he tells him, mirth slightly marred by the wobble in his voice.

Eiji combs his fingers through Ash’s hair. “That’s okay,” he says.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Tumblr: @bartycrouchjrs.


End file.
